SMALL JOYS

I'm getting up in less than six hours and I haven't even gone to bed yet! How's this for voluntary torture? I'm catching a plane at 6.40 a.m, which means I have to leave my house at 4.15 at the latest. I don't know why I keep flying at these ungodly hours, but anything to get to a place further south! Hmmm.... I'm a migrant bird, just like the birds who flood Perpignan in the months to come, before they set off for even more southerly shores. As I wish I could do too - really. Still - half-way transit is good enough for me.

Not to deny the fact that the weather here in the Northern Hemisphere is glorious at the moment - an Indian Summer in fact. At this time of year Norway would usually already be inundated by cold winds, rainy days and early signs of autumn, but this summer has been exceptional. I went for a long walk yesterday - it was magic. On my way I met my new next door neighbour, whose name is the same as mine - a bit old fashioned and very Norwegian, though she could be my daughter (hah! - these names are coming back)! She'd given birth to her baby daughter on Sunday and was already out walking with the pram - and the baby's name? JULIE! Wasn't that a lovely sign? Kjersti + Julie, Kjersti + Julie.

Perfect hiking outfit - short skirt and sandals

The woods of my urban neighbourhood

Beautiful flowers in the "rich" area - have they got their own gardener, I wonder? (AND the flowers change with the seasons)

Oh, those small everyday joys! My daughter Johanne was babysitting a friend's daughter today - a little 1,5 year old who simply adores my granddaughter Mira. Johanne and Iben came to visit, and she spotted a photograph of Mira - which she just wouldn't let go of! She hugged it, kissed it, fed it her pacifier - such a beautiful expression of her love for Mira - a girl six years her senior. Eventually we had to distract her to make her let go of the photo. So we gave her a seashell. Oh yes - the small joys...

Iben loves Mira - THE photo

My daughter Sophie told me the other day that Mira had seen a photo of Marilyn Monroe and asked if it was a picture of me. Oh my, oh mama, oh Big Mama! What a boost. I adore that girl, my granddaughter. And she meant it too. Or was she just squinting? Well, I honestly don't care... Another small everyday joy ticked off.

I dragged my husband along today to buy some DVDs - yes, they still exist - so that we can catch up on our lazy movie habits while in France. He wants the action, I want the French stuff, the dramas and the psychological thrillers. I think we compromised?

(By the way - no films are dubbed in Norway - there are only subtitles. This is one of the reasons our English is so good. Scientific research results - truly!).

HEAVY HEART

For the fifth time in eight years Julie has left Oslo again to go Down Under. This year she was only home for six weeks.

My daughter has fallen in love with Australia. She has lived in Sydney, now she's in Melbourne, where she works, has made a lot of friends and - she's found a man. She couldn't wait to get back to him, and he was desperate for her to come "home." Oh Julie - Oz is not your HOME! Or is it? Am I going to have to get used to the idea that she's making a home for herself in Melbourne, and that Oslo will gradually become just the place she grew up?

But did she have to go to the ends of the earth to find fulfilment? Australia is so far from Norway, almost the furthest you can travel - with the international date line just up the road. When I call her or skype with her there's a time difference of eight to ten hours, depending on the season and the clock. And I can't just jump on a plane and be there in a few hours, nor can I afford it! I checked the price of plane tickets for Christmas, and of course they cost a fortune.

But my baby's grown up and needs to make her own decisions. That's the way it is, and there's nothing I can do about it. Though I'll be missing her so much it hurts.

And today I have a heavy heart.

DOG DAYS (AND CAT)

The dog days are drawing to a close. The dog days basically cover the period between July 23 and August 23 here in the Northern hemisphere, hot sultry days when food rots, milk sours, drinks go stale - and humans grow languid and lazy with the stagnant weather. The sea boils. Dogs go mad. Diseases prevail. Good then, that the dog days mark the end of summer, and new freshness is brought to us by a crisper and colder season! (Though I for one would prefer dog days all year round if I had the choice.... except for the stale and sour stuff.... and the diseases..... but languid and lazy? Not adverse to that at all!)

It is true though, that to me August has often been a month of melancholy - with a touch of sadness and a sense of change - brought on by the fact that summer is over, the everlasting holidays come to an end, and school or work and the reality of every day chores are back. When my brother and sister were children and on holiday at our summer house they would hear the rustling of the "school wind" in the tree tops, just a few days before we were due to head back to Oslo. And this wind was so different to summer breezes, with its own sound, tolling us to autumn duties.

Hauling the boat on land for winter storage means: "End of Summer"

The cat in the photo at the beginning of this blog post is called Beyonce. She's the sweetest cat ever, so relaxed, cuddly and gentle. She loves to sleep next to a furry toy animal - in this case a dog - or close to an allergic Big Mama. She's not our cat though - she belongs to my daughter Johanne, but she's lived in our house most of the summer, looked after by Sophie and kind neighbours. Yesterday I found her on the terrace trying to relax, but being disturbed and aggravated by a bushy intruder. The bushy one kept making complaining noises and challenging Beyonce to a staring competition, but she didn't bat an eyelid nor degrade herself to reply at all. Eventually she just lay down to sleep, probably provoking Bushy no end. I went inside but turned around quickly when I heard the most nerve racking screech. Bushy Cat was gone. Beyonce yawned and stretched.

It turned out - according to my daughters - that the Enormous Bushy (bigger even than fat-bottomed Beyonce) has been greedy and pushy trying to make our terrace and house her/his home, but "no way José," said the sweet but determined Beyonce! When we weren't looking....

Dog days or no dog days - the sunny weather is holding on, but the Nordic nights are closing in, bearing a premonition of the never ending darkness in store for us in only a few months, nights that will end at 10 am and start again at 3 pm, and that's here in the south! Further north there is no daylight for months. Hmmm.... is this a way to talk before August hasn't even ended? Oh, but I would like to capture summer and keep it in a jar and let it out little by little all through winter! Warmth, light, greenery, flowers, sun and bare feet and arms!

The charm of the changing seasons is for others to enjoy.

Bambi deflating - summer's almost gone

Darkening August nights need lit candles in the apple trees

SKERRY ME HOME

The other day I blogged about what a wimp I am in the boat because I hate to get wet when I'm supposed to be dry. Well, the above picture goes to prove what a good sport I am after all - this is me yesterday after a boat trip on meter-high waves, and WET is not even the word I'd use to describe my state. I was soaked, I was dripping, you could wring me - and all I could taste was salt. I couldn't see a thing through my sunglasses. Hmmm.... not looking too pleased. But at least I didn't whine and complain - I was with two brave gentlemen - who kept singing "I'm a sailor" (a modified version of Rod Stewart's "I'm sailing," I think) -  and I was trying hard to show off my own seamanship.

Two sailors, braving it on land too - in the sun.... hmmm.... rain...

Kragerø

As we drove the boat into the nearby idyllic seaside town of Kragerø (when the waves were still moderate) I enjoyed once again the views of the many islands and the seascape which is so unique for Scandinavia. The skjærgård, which is a typical Scandinavian word, really means an archipelago of skerries - or "rocks in the sea." Okay, there may be "rocks in the sea" in other countries too, Scotland for instance, but it's certainly true that it's in Scandinavia you'll see the most spectacular archipelagos.

This motive from Portør has been used frequently in advertising

My brother, sister and I have practically grown up in, on and between the skerries - swimming, fishing, diving, camping, sunbathing, picnicking, late evening barbecuing, mussel picking, crab catching at night with torches, flirting, kissing, rowing, boating. Friends from abroad found trips out to the skerries exotic and exciting. In summer you'll be lucky to find your own private spot out there - boating tourists anchor up and stay for days if not weeks.

Circa 1964? Perhaps '65?

My own children, granddaughters and their friends enjoying the "Skjærgård" of Portør, Kragerø:

Another day of rain today and definitely indoor weather. This afternoon I spotted three deer in the garden and didn't want to open the door to scare them away with the noise. They're very wary, so even my movement at the window made them lift their heads and stare towards the house. They were probably a mother and two calves (?) - well, deer babies anyway - and I managed only a very poor photo through the window pane. And a raindrop right in the middle of the lens! They sprinted away immediately afterwards when a door was opened by one of the brave gentlemen.

My Mum's roses

Big Mama very pleased despite the lousy weather - it's only rain after all!

WAFFLE WEATHER

All weather forecasts told us that the weather would be glorious today - but no. We woke up to grey skies, then heard thunder roll over the summer house and down poured the inevitable rain. Checking out the forecasts again they STILL announced blue skies and a mean blazing yellow sun in our area! What kind of a job is this - a meteorologist? If only I could have spent that many years on a degree, get paid an extortionate amount of wages and then just sit around the rest of my working life playing the guessing game! (Hmmm..... come to think of it, I did actually - when I worked as a foreign exchange analyst in a commercial bank. I was supposed to analyze which way the financial markets were heading. Mostly guessing though... and I know these analysts still do. They may call it technical analysis, but if it really worked the world would not be in the state it's in, would it? Oooo - digressions! Don't you just love them?)

Good thing then, that on a rainy day I can bury my nose in a page-turner. The above novel makes me laugh, sob, smile and reflect - as the written word should. The story of the aging man Harold Fry who walks from the south of England to the north to see his cancer-ridden friend and colleague Queenie again after twenty years, is both moving and heart wrenching but never sentimental. I love the simple, almost naivistic way Rachel Joyce writes, and in parts it reminds me of a film I love too - Being There with Peter Sellers, one of the last movies he made. Highly recommended - both the novel and the film! (Having said that I wouldn't be surprised if they make this novel into a movie. Mark my words!)

A week with visits from near and far has ended - all my daughters and granddaughters were here at the summer house - my daughter Julie who lives in Melbourne had one of her best Australian friends Ayla to stay, and with her was her travel companion Taylor. I met lovely Ayla last year when she travelled Europe with Julie and they both stayed with us in Bulgaria before they moved on to Istanbul (by bus!), Barcelona and Ibiza. Oh, it reminded me of my Inter-Rail days!

One of my best friends Tove came to visit at the same time as the Aussie girls, and as usual our conversations went on and on - deeply, humourously and incessantly - accompanied by walks, boat trips, good wine and food. I'm a wimp and a lazy sleep-in bum, whereas Tove went swimming in the sea every morning at dawn (well, "dawn" to me, late morning to her). I'm also a wimp in the boat - if I'm hit by a single drop of sea water I start whining and yelling "Turn around, go back!" Well, I may be exaggerating just a tiny bit now - and I do know how to drive our boat in fact - but I do prefer my boat to softly sway through untroubled waters and gently rolling breakers. But I'm never one to get sea sick at least!

Enjoying a boat trip on the Black Sea just two weeks ago

Because the weather was so bad today, and we were pretty much stuck inside, I stirred together a waffle batter for my granddaughters to make waffles. I don't think I've done this since my own kids played handball - when we occasionally (quite often in fact) had to be handball Mums & Dads and not only drive them everywhere to matches in halls on the other side of town in the early hours of a Sunday morning, but also had to produce and sell waffles, cakes, coffee and Cokes to other hungry parents when the matches were in our hall. Phew! Glad that's all in the past! 

So off I go to aid the little girls in their waffle making - though the sun is out now and I'd rather sit in it with a glass of ice cold rosé. 

At least the weather forecasters turned out to be right in the end. Pure luck, if you ask me.

ENDLESS SUMMER

I'm on my second holiday this summer - after five weeks in Bulgaria I am now in the southern Norwegian town of Kragerø - at the family summer house which has its fiftieth anniversary this year. My parents bought it in 1963, that is my Dad bought it that Easter, and my Mum hadn't even seen it when she arrived for summer holidays in late June that year. With her she had an eight-year old (me), a toddler of three (my brother) and a six-month old baby (my sister). There was an orchard in front of the house, overgrown with weeds and grain, underneath which reptiles, toads and scary insects had made their home. There were apple trees, pear and plum trees, raspberries, black and red currant bushes, gooseberries - and there was a little stream running next to the property. There were blueberries in the woods, and there was a sandy beach a three-minute walk away.

There were summer friends to play with during those endless Nordic days, later we became teenagers and partied just a little bit during those everlasting light Nordic nights. There were visitors from all over the world, boyfriends and girlfriends and just friends. The summer house was our base when our family were on home leave from our overseas "exiles."

In short it was my summer paradise.

The orchard was quickly turned into a well trimmed garden, most of the fruit trees are gone now, and it's a fantastic playing field for the kids - soccer, badminton, boules and trampoline jumping are only some of the activities that take place here.

My mother sat down and cried when she first came here. And she was not crying with happiness! A ten-minute walk from the parking space, all goods, luggage and groceries transported in on a wheelbarrow, water from a well, an outside toilet, three little kids to look after and my Dad commuting at the weekends, then with only a two-week holiday from the bank where he worked in those days. But my Mum pretty soon discovered the joy of spending time away from a city flat, and I think to both her and us the days seemed to bear no grey skies, no rain. Sunny warm days that went on forever - well, for seven weeks anyway.

The first thing my Mum did - together with her sister - was to get a refrigerator. She ordered it from the nearby town of Kragerø, had it transported to the main road, and then the two of them carried it between them from there to the summer house. The fridge is still going strong - out in the shed behind the house now - and chilling my Sancerre Rosé perfectly!

I gather that this summer has been perfect here in Norway - I wouldn't know because I was in Bulgaria where the summer sun always shines anyway. But they say this is the sunniest, driest and warmest Norwegian summer since 1904. Good - after five rainy summers in a row! However - after having come down here last Friday, listening in the car to music recorded by our Bulgarian musician friends - we have experienced thunder storms, heavy winds, a record downpour of rain AND a ruined sun umbrella that was caught by a gust that most certainly had the speed of a hurricane. The electricity came and went, and the only option in order to get some dinner was a barbecue - underneath the not yet destroyed umbrella - with rain lashing sideways.

But the sun's out again today, the temperatures remind me of those in the southern hemisphere - and we have all our girls here! Including two visitors from Australia and my friend Tove from Oslo. Looks like it's going to be a busy evening - with my husband the only man about the place!

And as the nights grow darker and become more like the nights further south, I will hang lit candles in the apple trees at dusk.

A few days of rain did miracles for the yellow lawn (or not...?)